


Biting Helping Hands

by Roysth



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Kidnapping, M/M, Suicidal Thoughts, Threats of Violence, but its still against roddy's will, cons don't care about autonomy in terms of emotional wellbeing, rodimus doesn't want help, rodimus needs help
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-12
Updated: 2018-09-09
Packaged: 2018-11-13 02:30:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 4,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11175135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Roysth/pseuds/Roysth
Summary: When even the Decepticons can see that the new Prime is suffering, it's time for someone to step in. The Autobots don't seem to realize there's even a problem. Galvatron takes it upon himself to change things.





	1. Delightful Deception

**Author's Note:**

> Galvatron and Cyclonus need to realize that forcing help on someone is still a Bad Thing. (Definetly ooc)

   Galvatron growls as a small red foot kicks at his shins.

   "Stop squirming, autobot!" The Prime doesn't stop squirming. He in fact seems to squirm harder. Galvatron throws the Prime down onto the floor of the empty throne room. Rodimus Prime's yells are muffled behind the crude gag Galvatron had slapped over his mouth before stealing him away. Ultra Magnus's face had been pretty funny though. A Prime kidnapped in the middle of a battle! Oh, Galvatron wishes he'd thought to take a picture of the autobots' reactions. He watches the young Prime struggle with his bonds. Cyclonus walks into the throne room behind him, closing the doors before standing beside his lord. 

   "What do you wish to do to the Prime, my lord?" he asks, bowing. Galvatron smirks at the Prime as blue optics widen. What to do, what to do? There was so much Galvatron wished to do.

   "I think a proper fight will be the first thing. No autobots here to disrupt our fight, eh Prime? I'll finally be able to defeat you with my own two hands."

   Galvatron isn't expecting the way the Prime's optics dim, or the way his struggling stops. The Prime seems to sink in on himself. Galvatron looks to Cyclonus, the loyal mech also watching the red autobot. Cyclonus looks uncertain as well. Why isn't the autobot angry? Why isn't he struggling more, yelling muffled insults and grand speeches?

   "Cyclonus, get rid of that gag." Cyclonus obeys, pulling the Prime to sit upright and meet Galvatron's optics. "Well, Prime? How about our fight? Maybe if you do well I'll let you contact your autobots."

   Cyclonus looks up sharply at his lord. Galvatron holds up a hand to silence him, waiting for Rodimus Prime to respond. That young face is too calm. No one, not even his most loyal, act that way in Galvatron's presence. He's simply too intimidating.

   "I don't care," Rodimus says. "Either my autobots find me and rescue me, or you kill me. Doesn't matter if I 'do well'. Either I die or I don't." Rodimus shrugs, sighing. "You should probably just kill me if that's what you're going to do. I'd rather skip all the torture stuff."

   ....What the frag? Galvatron and Cyclonus look at each other with confusion. What sort of autobot acts like that?

   "I don't want your death yet," Galvatron says, "I want your defeat! I want you groveling at my feet and begging me to spare you!"

   "Just kill me. It's not like it'll really affect the autobots anyways."

   What in Primus' name is wrong with the Prime? Galvatron growls and orders Cyclonus to carry the autobot to his private washracks. This manages to get a reaction out of the Prime.

   "What the frag are you doing?! Just kill me!'

   "No." Galvatron strides ahead of Cyclonus and the Prime. "Something's not right here. You refuse to fight me, but wish to die. I think I know what's going on here. I'm going to fix this so you will actually fight me!"

   Rodimus' voice sounds like it's about to crack with emotion. "Fraggit Galvatron just kill me! Please, I don't want to go back-" Rodimus stops talking, obviously having said too much. Galvatron looks back over his shoulder at the Prime. He shakes in Cyclonus' hold. Oh Primus...

   "I will be speaking with Ultra Magnus, once you've been washed and fed. No one should be acting like this."

   Galvatron keeps walking, even when he hears Rodimus Prime say he's sorry in a small, scared voice.


	2. Swearing won't solve anything

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Galvatron is glad he's fighting the Autobots.

   They won't let him use his hands. Galvatron didn't order Cyclonus to uncuff him, so the jet doesn't. He lugs Rodimus into Glavatron's personal washracks like he's a turbofox, while the purple demon himself gives Cyclonus instructions. 

   "Make sure his stasis cuffs won't short out under the solvents. Turn them up higher, though. Don't want him splashing solvents all over everything."

   "Yes, my lord."

   "My stash of high grade is still fully stocked in there, correct?"

   "Yes my lord, I restocked it all yesterday."

   "Good, make sure he drinks some. I can hear his tanks rumbling from here."

   "Yes my lord."

   "Try to get those dents and scuffs out. I want him presentable when I comm Magnus."

   Rodimus finally struggles again. They can't do this! This is awful! He doesn't want to be even more of a burden on his soldiers than he already is. Getting paraded about in a comm call while Galvatron no doubt demands a ransom would make everything worse.

   "Fraggit Galvatron, just kill me then. That's what you want, it's what you always want! Me, grey at your feet, right? Winning over the autobots and all that. Don't use me to rub that you evaded my mechs in their faces!" Rodimus doesn't want to see the look on Ultra Magnus's face when Galvatron does. The disappointment. Rodimus would rather be a grey frame that Galvatron dumps at his second's feet to demand their surrender. At least he'd be useful then.

   Galvatron has the nerve to roll his eyes at him.

   "I will do as I please, Prime. And what pleases me now is to have you cleaned and fueled before I demand that Ultra Magnus tells me what he's done," he says. Galvatron palms open the door to the washracks. Inside is a deep bath, surrounded by tables of solvent additives and shower nooks. The sight makes Rodimus involuntarily shiver. The washrack is positively  decadent. Rodimus wonders how much of it was stolen from some high class mech's destroyed home. He watches Galvatron turn the knobs set into the wall above the tub. Steaming hot solvent spurts out of the faucet, thundering down into the tub to slowly fill it up. Galvatron retrieves a cube of glittering highgrade from some hidden compartment in the wall, walking back to Cyclonus.

   "Open for me Prime", Galvatron orders. Rodimus keeps his mouth stubbornly shut. He's not gonna take energon from the Decepticon Emperor. Who knows what might be in it? Though maybe that would be a good thing. Rodimus always liked how certain drugs the medics would give him for repairs made everything matter less. It felt nice, to be so lightweight and not himself.  Floating. But he always came back down so quickly, and then there Ultra Magnus or someone else would be, standing beside his medical berth with  _the look_ on their faces. The look where he wanted to run right back out into battle and get slagged again, if just to get back under the haze and float some more.

   But still. Energon, Decepticons. Bad idea.

   "Prime, open," Galvatron growls. Rodimus keeps his mouth closed and shakes his head. Nuh uh. No way. Galvatron looks at Cyclonus and says, "Open his mouth and keep it open."

   Rodimus, to his credit, tries his best to avoid Cyclonus's fingers. But he is still tied up and smaller than either of them, so. Cyclonus grabs his jaw and presses on the joints in it, forcing open Rodimus's mouth. Rodimus whines at the pain, kicking his legs as much as he can. Cyclonus's grip tightens. Galvatron pours the high grade into Rodimus's mouth, rubbing his throat to make him swallow. By the time he's finished the cube, his underused fuel tanks are groaning under the weight of so much heavy fuel. Rodimus coughs a few times when Galvatron pulls the cube away, but everything stays down. Even if it hurts. Galvatron rumbles something to Cyclonus, but whatever it is Rodimus is too focused on his own misery to care. He feels himself being set down in something so  _warm_ that he moans a bit. It's been so long since he felt this good. He can't even remember the last time. Solvent soaks into his seams and relaxes his joints. He closes his eyes and leans back, nearly forgetting where he his. He hopes Galvatron kills him here. He'd like to die happy.

   "Hand me the sponge, Cyclonus."

   "Yes my lord."

   Rodimus jolts at the feeling of something touching his plating. He onlines his optics to Galvatron kneeling next to the tub, scrubbing the soot from blaster marks off his plating. Cyclonus putters about behind him, laying out towels and soaps. What?

   "What are you doing?" Rodimus says, a little sluggishly. His body is slowly working through the fuel, and the warmth of the solvents makes him feel so tired. When was the last time he recharged? Galvatron looks at him, something Rodimus can't place glittering in his eyes. The demon smirks at him.

   "What sort of rival would I be if I didn't help you look and feel your best for our fight?" Rodimus thinks he's lying. Or at least leaving something out. Galvatron motions at Cyclonus, and the jet comes over with several little colored balls in his hands. He drops then into the solvents. Bubbles and scents erupt gently on the surface of the solvents. Different nutrients and relaxants suffuse through the liquid, seeping into Rodimus's every aching part and soothing them. Rodimus can't help another little moan. The glitter in Galvatron's eye gets a little brighter. "Rest well Prime", Galvatron says. "I'll make the calls I need to while you're asleep, since you're so against them. When you wake up, you'll fuel again whether you like it or not."

   Rodimus must have went longer without recharging than he thought, because he doesn't even argue with Galvatron before he falls asleep.


	3. Big Boy Pants

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Galvatron has to be an adult for once.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fuck me it's been a while, huh? School kicked my ass. Please accept this super late addition.

Rodimus recharges horribly. He keeps having this dream that he's been captured by the Decepticons, but instead of torturing him, they keep being nice to him. It's a nightmare; the idea that the Cons could be nicer than his own mechs. It's... scary. He rolls over and rubs his face against the berth, barely noting how much softer than his own it is.

 

"Soundwave, contact Autobot headquarters," Galvatron commands. The stotic boombox nods and establishes a connection between Galvatron's screen and Ultra Magnus' computer. The mech looks suprised. Soundwave must've just hacked his way into his computer instead of calling him. Whatever, same result either way.

"Galvatron! What have you done with our Prime?" Ultra Magnus looks angry. Good. He should. Galvatron smirks at him.

"I can assure you, he's in good hands."

"Return our Prime to us, now. What do you want in return for his safe return?" Oh, a trade then? The Autobots must have sent a rescue team after their Prime if they're willing to 'trade'. Galvatron sends Soundwave an order over commlinks to go keep an optic on the security systems. Soundwave bows and heads out to check, leaving Galvatron alone with Ultra Magnus. When the door to the bridge closes, Galavtron's smirk falls. 

"There'll be no trade, Magnus. I want to know what you've done to my dear Prime." On screen, the Magnus looks taken aback.

"What? What are you talking about Galvatron? If any harm has come to the Prime-"

"Silence!" Galvatron shouts. "He's miserable! When I brought him here, he was willing to die!"

"What?!"

"He was underfueled, dirty, miserable! I bet if Hook looked him over, we'd find more signs of your abuses!"

"We've done no such thing!" It's Magnus' turn to get angry. He scowls at Galvatron. "He's always reported to the fueling stations on time. First Aid always makes sure he's in the best shape he can be-"

Galavtron growls, his little patience already wearing thin. "My Prime should be ready to fight! Always! But he said to either 'kill me or let me go'. What warrior would ask that? He didn't care about fighting for his freedom. What have you done to him?!"

Ultra Magnus looks concerned. "He said what?"

"The implication was that he'd rather die than be defeated and have to deal with you all. What have you done to such a warrior that he would sooner die than face your disappointment?" Galavtron watches as Ultra Magnus sits back in his chair. The mech looks harrowed, optics flickering as he thinks back over things. Galavtron crosses his arms to wait for an excuse. The Autobots probably hurt his Prime whenever he couldn't win a battle. That was no way to treat a Prime! Primes should stand tall, preach loudly, and always be ready to fight! Galavtron thinks back to the look in Rodimus' optics as the small hot rod had begged. So tired and upset. So finished. It fuels his anger, making him shout at the still quiet Magnus. "Well?!"

"He's so young..."

"What?" Galvatron asks. Ultra Magnus shakes his head.

"Hot Rod- Rodimus- was very young when he took the Matrix. Younger than Orion. I suppose... that it negatively affected him. He probably can't... handle the stress."

"You suppose?! How young was he?" Nevermind the fact that Galavtron was technically only a few years old. 

"I'm not entirely sure. But the Matrix chose him. What are we supposed to do? Rip it out of him and make it chose someone else?"

"He wants to die!"

"Well, good for you then," Ultra Magnus snaps. "Isn't that what you want? For us all to die? Why is Rodimus' mental state such a big issue for you? You're trying to kill us!"

Why was he so upset over this? The Prime is his opposite! His challenger! His equal! With Prime the universe would light up in glorious battles and speeches! With Prime he was whole! With Prime he was happ- Galavtron quickly shuts that thought down. He glares up at Magnus.

"You'll never get your Prime back," he hisses. He shoots the screen with his cannon, a poor substitute for Ultra Magnus' own shocked face. He growls at the smoking remains of the screen. "He's mine. If you can't make him okay, then I will."


	4. Upgrade

Cyclonus sits next to the unconscious Prime. The small red bot had been asleep for several hours. He looks a little better. It makes Cyclonus wonder how little recharge he's been getting. A nap and a bath shouldn't make such a difference in appearance. Rodimus Prime rolls over in his sleep, cuddling the pillow under his head. It's pretty cute, Cyclonus will gladly admit that. The tiny hot rod shouldn't be a leader. He's so young. He isn't ready for the demands of leading. Not that the autobots care, apparently.

Cyclonus stands when the door to the berthroom door slides open, Galvatron striding in. His Lord looks furious.

"Have you spoken with Ultra Magnus, my Lord?" he asks. Galavtron glares at him.

"Yes, and we will  _not_ be returning their Prime until they can appreciate him better. I have half a mind to go rip Ultra Magnus's throat out." Oof. Cyclonus lets Galvatron take his chair. The purple warlord watches Rodimus intensely. Red optics trace the lines of Rodimus's face. The Prime looks peaceful. Cyclonus can tell the sight makes his Lord feel something, something positive hopefully. "Has the Prime fueled yet?"

"No, my Lord. He's been asleep since we bathed him. Once he wakes up he'll probably require more fuel. And probably won't want to take it."

"I will make him take it. How can we fight if he won't even fuel correctly?"

Cyclonus bows and heads out to get medical grade energon from the medbay. Rodimus will need all the nutrients he can get, especially if he's going to be fighting them on fuel. Richer fuel will help, even if he only takes a little bit. Cyclonus gets the cubes of medical grade from Hook, the surgeon also slipping him some sleep aids with a knowing look. He'd looked over the Prime to make sure he was alright before being given to Galvatron. It seems even he thinks the Prime isn't recharging well. Cyclonus thanks him and heads back to the berthroom to find Galvatron resting a hand on Rodimus's cheek. The warlord looks, dare he say it... worried.

Cyclonus slips back into the hallway and steps loudly. When he comes back inside Galvatron's hand is back at his side like he never touched the Prime. The warlord looks pouty though (and isn't that a strange thought to have about one's lord and master. Perhaps Cyclonus needs to go to Hook for a checkup.).

"Well, do you have energon?" Galavtron asks, gruff. Definitely pouting. (Cyclonus sends a comm to Hook asking for a checkup. What are these strange thoughts?!)

"Yes, my Lord. Hook also supplied me with sleep aids, that I will make sure to keep out of the Prime's reach."

Galavtron nods, holding out his hand for a cube. Cyclonus gives it to him, setting the others aside on a table. He puts the sleep aids in his subspace. Back by the berth, Galavtron gently shakes the Prime awake. Rodimus is groggy, batting at the hands on him and begging for five more minutes.

"This is ridiculous, Prime. Wake up," Galvatron commands. The Prime bolts up, optics wide.

"Galvatron!" he yelps. The small mech tries to scoot backwards off the berth, but Galavtron grabs his ankle and pulls him close.

"Stop squirming Prime. It's time to fuel."

Like Cyclonus suspected, the Prime fights them about fueling. He keeps his mouth firmly closed and twists and turns in Galavtron's grip. The warlord finally gets fed up and yanks Rodimus completely into his lap, holding him against his chest.

"Open your mouth Prime! Right now!"

Rodimus, of course, doesn't.

"Cyclonus! Hold his mouth open for me!"

Cyclonus sighs quietly and obeys his Lord. He gently presses on the joints of Rodimus Prime's jaw until it's open enough for Galvatron to pour some fuel in. Cyclonus then keeps his hand over Rodimus's mouth so he can't spit the fuel out. Galvatron strokes the Prime's throat until he swallows on reflex. They manage to get through an entire cube like this, prying and pouring and stroking. The process seems to tire the Prime out again, as he leans against Galavtron without a fight towards the end of the cube. Perhaps finally having some good quality energon in his tank is making him disoriented. Galvatron looks tense, upset about something. Cyclonus can guess what he's so worried about, and it makes him equal parts happy and concerned.

"There, Prime, that's all for now. Perhaps next time you'll drink on your own. Until you do, we will continue like this. Now rest, let your body work through the new energy. When you wake again we'll give you another cube," Galvatron says. His voice offers no room for arguing. The Prime doesn't look at him, instead letting himself be mech-handled back into his berth. Rodimus turns his back to Galavtron and Cyclonus. Cyclonus can feel how his Lord's em field goes wild with negative emotions, the main one being worry. It is a strange feeling, coming from Galvatron. Cyclonus takes his seat next to the Prime's berthside again as Galvatron gets up. He still has an army to run, after all.

Cyclonus watches his Lord leave, casting a parting glance over his shoulder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got left a comment that made me so happy I instantly wanted to write another chapter. Anyways, have some more of Galvatron being a shit.


	5. Unhappy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, school and then moving kicked my ass. Anyways, have more emotionally stunted mechs.

Rodimus waits until both mechs leave, then waits a while longer. When he thinks the coast is clear, he gets up and goes to the door. He doesn't know what he expected when he finds it locked. Like the Decepticons would forget to lock him in. Rodimus sighs, feeling horribly tired even after a nap.

"What the frag is going on?" he asks himself. Galvatron's actions are confusing him. Why is he doing all this? Why the fuel and the bath and the care? Sure, he claimed it was so they could have a fair fight, but even if Rodimus was at tip top shape he'd never match Galvatron's speed or strength or pure energy. Was Galvatron's really that delusional?

Rodimus snorts at that thought. He knows Galvatron's is delusional, acting like the mech's action ever once made sense is a sign of Rodimus losing his own marbles. He returns to the plush berth and sits on it. Stubborn refusal to lay back down like Galvatron said ward with Rodimus's own desire to sleep. He hasn't seen a berth like this in, in ages. Since long before the war. He'd never had much before it all got taken away. Rodimus wonders where the Cons got such a good berth from. Probably stole it.

Rodimus tries distracting himself, but still his thoughts turn to just how tired he is. Maybe sitting on the berth wasn't a good idea, but now he finds no will to get up. When was the last time he had a good recharge? One that wasn't interrupted by battles or war meetings or funerals? One where his own nightmares didn't make him avoid sleep? Too long. 

Rich fuel sits heavy in his tank. It feels like a weight on his body, dragging both him and his thoughts down. How many Autobots could've survive off that cube? Rodimus had seen starvation, seen the wasted corpses of people lining city streets. He sniffles, tears coming unbidden to his optics. Here he was, lounging around and eating while the war continued. So many of his army must be suffering. He hopes Ultra Magnus or Kup took over when he was taken. Maybe if he dies they'll be able to lead permanently. It'd be for the best. The Autobots deserve more experienced leaders, not someone like Hot Rod.

Rodimus hiccups, cheeks already wet with tears. The thought keep rolling around his head as he lies down. He muffles his sobs in a pillow.


	6. Throwing rocks doesn't count as flirting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anyway, the relationship here with these gays is gonna be kinda 'hhh' for a while. Roddy needs the help but really doesn't think he deserves it, but Galvatron still isn't helping like a normal person.

Galvatron does not pout. He's a monster, a literal spawn of Unicron. He's inspired fear in countless mechs with just a look. He can fight for days and not get tired. He's the leader of the Decepticons, and he. Does not. Pout.

"Has the Prime woken up yet?" Galvatron pouts. Cyclonus shakes his head, checking the feed once again. Still asleep. At least he wasn't crying anymore.

"The Prime is still recharging. It appears that he hasn't been sleeping much at all. One would think he'd be recharged by now." Cyclonus looks up at the sound of loud pedesteps to find his lord pacing their shared quarters. Galvatron is agitated. He's not usually one to pace, even when things look bad. Megatron would pace, not Galvatron. The thought makes a traitorous little thought spring up in Cyclonus's head as to why his lord might be so obsessed with the Prime. Though it likely wouldn't be traitorous at all. The Prime has always been a source of infatuation for the Decepticon leader, be it Galvatron or his predecessor. It was par for the course, really.

"Slagging autobots," Galvatron growls, hands clenching into fists. "I have half a mind to go attack their base and beat that fool Ultra Magnus into the dirt. Maybe I should drag him here and force him to apologize to the Prime."

"If I may my lord," Cyclonus quickly interjects before Galvatron can convince himself that's exactly what he should do," the source of the Prime's problems seems to be his belief that he is failing the autobots. Attacking the base and hurting his army would likely make him even worse. Dragging a beaten Magnus to his pedes would probably cause the Prime to shut down more."

Galvatron grumbles to himself. "Well then what am I to do to make this better? Surely geting rid of his source of stress would be best? Then all he'd have to think about is our fight!"

Cyclonus shakes his head, trying not to further anger his master. "Rodimus Prime is young and sensitive. Even his predecessor was known to take losses especially hard. Attacking now, while he's not even able to give help, would likely send him further into a depressive spiral. Unfortunately the best way to get him better right now seems to be to stop attacking. Just for the moment!" Cyclonus says quickly when Galvatron's temper flares. "Just until he's better enough, then you and he may fight once he is no longer so small and fragile. Then he'll he rested and ready for a real fight."

Galvatron's anger fades back into a not-pout. "Perhaps. This is rather confusing. He doesn't act like a Con. I am... not sure how to handle him without making things worse."

"Let's just concentrate on feeding him for now," Cyclonus offers. "The rest can be figured out later."


End file.
